


Confession

by laneypenn



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, also chase is there for like two secs, autistic brigette and ehml martin... yeeeaaaa, mentions of bullying bc its martin and brigette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laneypenn/pseuds/laneypenn
Summary: By just about anyone in their school's definition, Martin Murphy and Brigette Lane aren't normal. Maybe that's why they like each other.





	

Brigette Lane and Martin Murphy were outsiders. Brigette was sweet but quirky, if by quirky you meant she never stopped moving and she clawed at her own arms sometimes and she never caught on whenever someone tried to hint anything to her. Sometimes she’d stop in the middle of the hallway and cover her ears and Martin would have to push her forward and help her get to a quieter spot where she could calm down, sometimes she threw things or shouted or flailed around angrily and people would laugh at her because she looked ridiculous, sometimes she’d stop talking entirely and when she would try to talk, it would come out in low sounds from her throat or in long, frustrating stuttering. 

The thing was, she usually tried to fit in. Martin didn’t like a lot of her friends that she made by trying to fit in because they would tell her lies and, like the naive girl she was, she’d believe them and they’d all laugh at her for believing. Martin also knew that a lot of her friends didn’t like him, but there was a reason for that.

Martin was the school’s most infamous student. Suffering from Extreme Hereditary Murphy’s Law condition, he knew how to handle things, but he just didn’t know how to stop things from needing to be handled. He lived a life of solitude, quietly waking up at four every morning and eventually getting home anywhere from eight to ten every night and immediately going to sleep because every day was so hectic and tiring and he never really wanted to be awake anyways. Sometimes he’d get home even later, usually on days when he would be cornered by some group of teens looking for a scapegoat for their problems and deciding to “teach him a lesson”. It was never an actual interesting lesson either. “Exist and you get beaten up,” yeah, real good lesson, guys.

Martin and Brigette had met in January of ninth grade, halfway through their first year of high school. She had sat down in the desk next to his and spoke to him everyday until Martin finally caved in and let her be his friend. After the label was permanently pasted on him, Martin had started to realize a lot of things he understood about Brigette and things that she understood about him that no one else ever had understood before. Martin knew how to treat her when she was having an episode, he knew that she wasn’t ever really going to be like the other kids, and he knew that even though she tried to reinforce normalcy and sameness in her life, she absolutely despised the idea of them. Maybe that was why he liked her and didn’t really care for anyone else: she was different, so different than the people who had ostracized him his whole life.

She always seemed to know what to say to make Martin feel like he was less dangerous than he always felt. She always seemed to know which things were his fault and which things would’ve happened without him being there, and she knew how to explain that something wasn’t his fault to him. She had moved him from saying sorry every time he saw anything bad happen to saying sorry only when it was his fault. It amazed him.

They met in freshman year. She had asked him, “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” and he had replied, “Dead.” She had followed him around for a whole day and asked, “Why does everyone avoid you?” and he had replied, “Because they’re smart.” She had found him after he was pummeled by some kids looking for a good outlet for their anger and she kicked all of them and pulled their hair until they ran away, then she helped him up and just whispered, “You’re so nice, why would they do this?” and he didn’t know how to respond.

Sophomore year was a year of growing closer and becoming each other’s best friend. He had asked her, “Why do you laugh when they make fun of you?” and she had said, “Because then they’re not laughing at me, they’re laughing with me.” He had asked her “Do you really think you could do any of these careers?” and she had replied, “I know I can.”

Junior year was a year of staying together, no matter what life threw at them. He had broken his leg and she had asked him “Are you in pain?” and he replied, gritting his teeth as she let him prop up his lame body on her shoulder, “I’m always in pain.”

Senior year was when they tumbled through sharp rocks into a ditch together.

* * *

 

Martin coughed, the pain in his leg familiar as he had broken it many times before. He crawled over to Brigette, who was shaking and clutching her arm and obviously doing a bad job of trying not to cry. Martin’s eyes widened as he turned Brigette over and stared, horrified, at the dark red that soaked through the side of her shirt. There must’ve been a gash under them, and Martin noticed that the bottom hem of her shirt was ripped. Martin immediately laid her on her back and pulled his bag closer, even while his broken leg screamed at him to stop moving around.

Brigette coughed and breathed unevenly, giving in to the pain that was digging at her and telling her to cry. A tear streamed down the side of her face and she gritted her teeth. Her hands covered the red spot, trying to apply pressure to the bleeding wound. Martin stared at her as he pulled out his large first aid kit.

“Brigette, Brigette, shhh, I’m here, I’m going to help you, just move your hands…” Martin removed Brigette’s hands. He took out his scissors and gently started cutting away the fabric of her shirt and pulling it away. There was a large gash in her side, deep and bleeding heavily, but Martin knew he could stitch it up. The skin was still mostly together and he could probably - 

“Martin? If I die -”

“You won’t die.” Martin’s voice was saturated in his determination and he reached into his first aid kit for a needle and surgical thread. He threaded the needle as he felt Brigette staring at him. Martin looked back at her and she looked desperate, her eyes half-closed as she had started pressing back down on the wound. Martin grabbed the saline solution and dragged himself back over. “I’m sorry, this’ll be uncomfortable. I can’t help it.” He poured the saline over the wound and Brigette recoiled at the cold, but didn’t do anything difficult. Martin watched her screw her eyes shut and start crying again and he felt awful for making Brigette go through this, but there was nothing else he could do. He had to clean her wound and stitch it up, or Brigette would bleed out.

Martin knew Brigette was still trying to talk. She was trying to catch her crying, pained breaths to tell Martin something, but she couldn’t. And Martin didn’t want to listen to her try to say her last words, because  _ she wasn’t going to die _ , goddammit.

“M-Martin, I have to tell you something,” Brigette choked out, and Martin ignored her as he took the needle and stuck it into Brigette’s skin, sewing it back together. In, through, out, in, through, out…

Brigette was cringing at the feeling, but Martin couldn’t help her. He had already run out of painkillers and anything that would help numb the wound, and he wasn’t going to just not stitch it up. He wasn’t going to let Brigette slip away.

“Martin - Martin, I -” Brigette hissed as Martin poked her again, but wouldn’t relent. “I l-love you, Martin.”

Martin didn’t skip a beat before growling, “I love you, too,” to her. 

“No, I mean - I  _ love _ you, as more than just a -”

“I know what you mean!” Martin shouted, a tear streaming down his face. Brigette stared at him, completely still as he continued to sew her side together. “That’s why… You can’t die. I’m not going to let you die.”

That was the last one. He tied off the thread and reached into the first aid kit, pulling out gauze bandages to wrap her stomach. Her bleeding had stopped (mostly - obviously the sutures still bled but the steady ebb had slowed considerably) and she was stitched up neatly. She helped him wrap them around her silently. Her shirt was destroyed and discarded underneath her, leaving her wearing just a white push-up bra and her green skirt.

They sat in silence for a minute, both exhausted, and Brigette finally spoke. “You love me?”

Martin wrapped his hands around themselves, wringing them together as he spoke quietly, hoping the pain in his leg wasn’t noticeable to her. “You’re my only friend, so I might be mistaking my feelings, but I’m… I’m pretty sure. Yeah.”

He looked up at her as he finished his sentence, and jumped at the look on her face. She was flapping her hands wildly and her eyes were shining and her mouth was stretched in a grin. “You really do? Really?”

Martin blushed and averted his eyes, looking at his leg instead. He had a hard time with stuff like this… “I mean… Yes? Hey!”

She leaped onto him and hugged him, nuzzling her face into his neck. “You’re gonna break the stitches! Be careful!” He felt her giggle into his shoulder and he melted, wrapping his arms around her back too and feeling her soft skin under his arms. 

... _ Love, huh? _

He smiled just a little bit, cradling Brigette and turning slightly to put less strain on the stitches he had just administered. He felt her press her lips to his ear and then back away, him still holding her waist as she did. He looked into her bright, sparkling eyes for a moment before she bounced excitedly a little bit and pulled Martin’s face to hers, planting a kiss on his lips. Martin’s eyes widened before he put his hands on her sides again and closed his eyes, accepting the kiss and tilting his head. His leg still hurt like hell, but he didn’t feel like trying to get medical attention right now.

He didn’t really have his priorities straight.

She backed away from the kiss and Martin watched her bite her lip, his heart beating fast. She chuckled awkwardly and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, looking down and avoiding Martin’s eyes. “That was… Sorry, that was a bit sudden -”

“I like sudden!” Martin blurted out, feeling his ears burn. Brigette’s eyes widened, her lips pursed, and her face turned red. Martin’s hands settled to hold her around her ribcage, sitting right on her bra, and he leaned in, letting her close the distance and press their lips together again. Her hands rose to rest on his jaw and she cupped his face, wrapping her lips around his lower lip. 

They pulled away again and Brigette pressed her forehead to his, mumbling something to herself. Martin was sure that if he wasn’t who he was, he’d be passing out from the pain in his leg now. But he didn’t want the moment to end, this blissful moment of understanding and her sweet lips against his -

“Now what?”

Martin looked around. The ditch was dry and surrounded by sharp, jagged rocks on all sides. He was pretty sure he could climb out with just a broken leg (He’d climbed out of a chasm with both his legs broken before) but he wasn’t sure if Brigette’s stitches would handle the climb. “I’m not sure. Climbing out of here would be pretty hard.”

“So we should just… Chill?”

Martin nodded. Most of the time,  _ somebody _ would find him when he was stuck. They just had to wait it out. A broken leg wasn’t fatal.

Brigette was quiet for a moment, then, her voice still low, she asked, “Are we… Dating, now?”

Martin shrugged, averting his eyes. “I mean… I can be your boyfriend, if you’re my girlfriend…” His voice lowered as he spoke, his ears still burning. When he said “‘girlfriend” it was barely a mumble.

She took his hands in hers and nodded, grinning widely. He gave her a small smile back, and she gave him her smile by pressing her lips to his again. He could feel her mouth stretched in a grin while he kissed her and he wondered how he could be so lucky when he was a jinx.

His hands rested on her bare skin just below her bra and just above the bandages as she pulled away again, giggling. She looked at him and averted her eyes, looked at him and averted her eyes, kept glancing away and back at him like she was waiting for him to look away before she let herself stare at him. 

He wasn't going to look away, though. He was going to soak up her beauty until someone found them and it would be too embarrassing to.

He smiled at her awkward giggle and pulled her in again, this time just burying his face in her shoulder while he hugged her and whispered, “I love you so much.”

She giggled more, wrapping her arms around him and rocking excitedly. Suddenly, a voice called out, “Brigette!” and she scrambled off of him, her face red as she looked up from the ditch. 

Martin looked up too, the pain in his leg becoming more noticeable now that he didn't have Brigette distracting him.  _ Oh, it's Chase. Well, at least he hasn't seemed to notice us… cuddling. _

Chase called out Brigette's name again, and Martin cupped a hand next to his mouth and shouted, “Chase!” The teen looked down, surprised, then sniffed and narrowed his eyes at the sight of Martin.

“Of course  _ you're _ here. What the hell happened?!”

“We fell.”

Chase growled and ran a hand through his hair, shuffling it angrily. “Are you gonna climb out?”

“I would, but I can't carry her out with a broken leg -”

Brigette started and shouted, “You broke your leg?!” 

Martin nodded. Brigette facepalmed and Martin smiled at it, because he knew she was just worried.

Getting out would be fun.

**Author's Note:**

> i got way too attached to the way i characterize these two lol


End file.
